Chapter One: (Prince?) Snow White and the Seventh Arrow

-o-

A/N: Fun fact- I've had this like 90% done for 3 months but I was stuck on the ending of this chapter. Also, any time I have to work on this chapter is time I should be spending on something else concerning senior year, but you know, whatever.

Also: In Japan there is a magazine titled Seventeen that is exactly like the western magazine by the same name here. That information was also completely useless.

I apologize for the long wait, but here it is- one serving of incessant book puns and sass disguised as an inukag fanfic. Whoops, did I write that out loud?

Any favorites or reviews are much appreciated in advance! : )

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Note: So the princess finds the prince asleep in his glass case. Except I'm just a girl, and the prince is actually just a jerkass who wears funny clothes. And the thing is, this jerkass prince brought his glass walls with him. He brings them everywhere.

I wonder if it's because of an apple he ate?

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"So today's the day?"

I could practically feel the excitement dripping from Eri's voice straight through my locker door, though I had no intention of closing it so I could see her face beaming with it, either. She tends to stand a bit too close for comfort anyway, even for me, and to be honest I really didn't want her to see my face. It had been a week since that bet fiasco at Barnes & Noble, and no, I haven't started yet. I had to get a few things done before I really started devoting time to this stupid bet, and there was no way I was going to start the next day or something.

"Yes, it is," I said shakily, hoping I didn't sound quite as nervous as I felt, but I probably did. I unloaded the last textbook from my backpack and closed my locker, turning away from her as soon as I heard the distinct "click" of my lock, walking as calmly as I could.

"Hey, there's no reason to be so nervous!" I abruptly stopped walking and almost bumped into someone. I guess my emotions really are open-book, I thought as I heard Eri walk up behind me, and we continued to walk at the same pace towards the school parking lot.

"You have that book, remember?" I felt my eye twitch at the mention of that monstrosity. I had avoided touching that book as much as possible; in fact I had made my friends purchase it for me at the register while I had (rather tactfully) hidden behind a shelf. There was no way I'd ever be caught personally buying such a book, especially if it was going to be in front of the person who I had to make at least a decent first impression on if I wanted a chance at winning this. So far I haven't even grazed a page.

"Oh, yeah, that thing. I'm just relieved it's a jacket cover so I won't be caught holding it unless someone pries it from me spine up from my cold, dead fingers." Just to clarify, I removed the cover so its tacky appearance could be reduced to a muted, unremarkable, solid navy hardcover. Thank God.

We walked silently for little while towards our cars, which happened to be parked in the same section today. Once Eri had found her car keys after rummaging through both coat pockets and our cars had come into view, mine being a red Volkswagen Beetle, I was met with a playful look on her face. "If the book is such a nuisance, Kagome, you can give up early and-"

"No thanks. I am not going to lose this just because of some petty book for the benefits of the losing punishment. In fact, I am already fully committed to this."

A sly smile appeared from the corner of my eye as I unlocked my car and stepped in, rolling the windows down to smother the stuffy air with the cold breeze as soon as I turned the car on.

"Really? Before you've even officially started? That's a bold statement," she inquired while bending down so her head was level with the open car window, "And what's the rush?"

"I have a new job," I started with a grin, "at a certain Starbucks in a certain Barnes & Noble. See you!"

Eri just silently stared in disbelief as I backed out of my parking spot with a smug smile on my face and drove away.

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"You, a job inside the kind of place you claim you can't stand? And didn't you just tell me you were eating a doughnut?"

I took another bite of the said doughnut while sitting in the driver's seat, windows rolled down in the middle of the parking lot. It's Autumn, and that means pumpkin spice doughnuts at Dunkin' Donuts. My shift didn't actually start for another twenty-five minutes- it was starting late because I was being trained today, which meant I had some time to call Sango.

"A pumpkin donut, yes. What about it?"

"Aren't you technically funding their competition before you even start working there?"

I paused in thought for a moment before bringing the orange pastry back to my mouth. "Uh, no. Starbucks doesn't sell doughnuts. I'm not missing out on one of my favorite seasonal snacks just because Starbucks prefers to sell cake pops over fried rings of dough."

"...If you say so. But you're still working inside a chain bookstore."

"I guess, but I'm not directly working for them, either. And excuse my language, but I'll be damned before I lose this bet." I definitely will be if I lose it, anyway.

"The losing punishment must be pretty bad."

"Oh, yes. Not only do I have to write a 500-word essay on why chain bookstores are better than independent ones, I must also buy a one year subscription to the Seventeen magazine," I shuddered at the thought of being plagued by that mutated virus of a celebrity-slash-fashion magazine on a monthly basis, "and that's not even all of it. To top it all off, I must purchase a Barnes & Noble Membership. A membership!"

"Sounds like they're not joking around then, huh." Sango's voice was distant, as if she was concentrating on something else. She's probably sewing again; I pictured her with the phone between her ear and shoulder, slipping pins through the smooth, waxy surface of the tracing paper and the cloth that spilled out underneath before I had processed her reply.

"Sounds like? It'll be the end of me if I lose! I mean, I guess they're just trying to get me motivated and actually try this out. If you know what I mean."

"Yeah, you've never been very committed in the past when it came to projects."

"I am so!" I heard her sigh on the other line.

"Really? What about your last two jobs, both of which you quit after less than six months? Journalism for three weeks? AP History and English for a month and a half? At least half the stories you've written, which are supposedly "on hiatus?" Should I continue?"

"They were terrible jobs, journalism was a joke and provided me no challenges in writing, AP classes are scams because they speed through the material so fast you probably don't actually learn anything and is where thought process and creativity go to die while the concept of short-term memorization rises to the rank of Jesus, and I am a very busy person who gets writing block sometimes."

"The only thing you've really kept steady is archery club, your grades, your basic values, and your bookstore visits. You never actually stick anything out. Newsflash: sometimes pulling through things you don't necessarily like at first will end up gaining you something in the process. Maybe then you wouldn't be so uncertain about everything."

I puffed out a sigh of defeat. Sango's bluntness is a double-edged sword: she tells you how it is, it's her way of showing her genuine concern. However, it's also her unlicensed ability to pick you and your dignity apart like a flock of seagulls with a single Doritos bag. If you haven't guessed, she is the army of seagulls. I am often the Doritos bag, preferably cool ranch.

"Whateverfine, but that doesn't count when it comes to relationships! I've been friends with you since we were nine. Eight years."

"This is more of a bet than it is a relationship at this point. You haven't even started."

"Ugh. And they obviously still didn't think I'd take this seriously! When I told Eri that I got a job there she was practically dumbfounded."

"So? You're a woman, aren't you? Prove them wrong. Get your guy."

"A bold statement concerning someone who I haven't even actually met, nor you. And for a strong feminist." When I have nothing else to offer in the quick wit department, I like to push Sango's feminist buttons; it's the only way to get her to stop verbally pounding me in exchange for a brief gender-justice lecture.

"Feminism is about equality. Though women don't need men to survive, in this case your survival is satisfying the bet, not ensuring yourself a boyfriend. But don't use him or look at him like a device for a means to a preferred end- though I know you wouldn't do that. And I don't need to know him; I will sense if he ever tries something sleazy, and trust me if I do, I will personally whoop his ass to oblivion. He will be limping until New Year's."

"I'm...sure you would. Are you talking about someone in particular?" I was met with silence on the other line, I couldn't even hear her breathing. Then all of a sudden I heard her exhale heavily, a sign that she was practicing a breathing exercise to calm herself down.

"You are talking about someone, aren't you." It was a statement, not a question.

"Just," Sango started, her voice the slightest shaky with residual anger, "no. I mean, it's not important. I'm fine, and you have to go to training and I need to make alterations on this dress."

"But-"

"You better call me later to tell me how it goes! Bye, Kagome." She hung up before I could reply. That was strange.

I checked the time on my cellphone and winced. I had nineteen minutes left now, and I should be there a little early, especially if I wanted to get some reading in. I gathered my things and climbed out of the car, making sure I locked it before walking away. I realized I still held a small piece of doughnut in my hand, and stuffed it in my mouth as I pushed open the second door leading into the bookstore, hoping it would stifle the queasiness I felt in my stomach.

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I had made sure to look presentable today (mostly for my training). I was wearing long purple pants that cuffed just above my ankles, black flats, and a simplistic, short-sleeved, black lolita-esque blouse with a small red bow at the collar. I took a quick glance at the register- no one I could recognize was there- and quickly ducked into the YA fiction section, making sure I was standing in a more secluded spot before pulling out the unsuspicious-looking dark blue hard cover that binded my only literary guide. I assumed the introduction to chapter one would be a good start.

-o-

Chapter One: Obtaining his I.D.

"So you do you like this guy, or not?" This question is probably among the most irritating to be asked if you are reading this book for yourself. How should you know- you haven't even started dating him! Do you really even want to, though? Are you sure you actually really like him? It could be a daunting question that frustrates you to no end, but never fear, I have the simple solution to start you in the right direction to sever that very uncertainty. You're welcome.

Now, it doesn't matter if you've known him for months or barely even a second, it's impossible to start on the right path if you don't know what you're looking for. Yes, what. You must identify what type of person he is before even beginning to find out who he is.

The good news: it doesn't require breaking the law and stealing his wallet like the title implies. It's free, too.

The bad news: well, it's only bad news if you're shy or anxious. You're going to have to talk to him in order to complete the first step.

Why? Is it really necessary to talk to him right away? What if he doesn't even know I exist?!1oneone, is what some of you are screaming at me inside your heads right now. If you feel your veins collapsing, your heart compressing to the size of a walnut, your very sanity deteriorating just at the fleeting thought of speaking to him, then I suppose you could attempt to gather the information from others, but do you really want to be questioned why you're asking around for his information or descriptions of him? Or worse, do you really want any info you scrape up to be based on rumors, or opinions that you may not have taken the same way as your source? It's better you get your own authentic perspective of him rather than someone else who may not view him exactly the same way. Plus, any topic relating to dating has something to do with eventually communicating and forming a (perhaps) intimate relationship; you were going to have to let him know that you're an actual living being that has a physical form at some point, so why not get it over with now? The sooner, the better, honey.

Mission Statement: I have provided you with a series of male stereotypes to get you started, and you need to pick the one your guy fits best. They may seem very generalized at first- which is because they are- but you probably don't know much about him at this point. If you think you do though, then you may skip to the STARGAZER test in chapter five. If not, well, here's your list, and good luck!

-o-

I began to skim over each stereotype title and what pages its analyzation corresponded to until I heard footsteps closing in behind me, and I promptly froze in place.

"Do you need help, miss?"

I yelped and scrambled to put the book back into my tote bag, spinning on my heel to face the young man standing no more than six feet away from me, and smiled nervously. It's not him, thank god. An employee about my age, but pulled back dark hair, dark eyes, and human ears. I breathed a sigh of relief and straightened my posture, trying to look as calm as possible, even if it was already too late for that.

Instead of taking a step back, he took another step toward me and leaned over marginally to see my face better.

"I apologize if I scared you. I only wanted to make sure you weren't confused or anything. But I guess that book was yours, was it not?"

"U-Uh, no. Wait, yes. I mean, it's none of your business." I regretted the last part as soon as I said it, but my anxiety was spiked and I can't help but be embarrassed by even having the said book in close proximity to me, nevermind owning it. Saying I borrowed it could possibly sound worse.

He didn't move, but his eyebrows furrowed and he frowned slightly, his expression looking as if there had been a genuine misunderstanding.

"I meant no harm. You seemed a little...perplexed, and it kind of is my job to make sure you're not. That and taking your money lawfully."

I briefly laughed at his little joke and mindlessly adjusted the strap of the bag resting on my left shoulder.

"Sorry, you're right. It's just that I have job training today in this cafe here, and…" and I have a bet I need to win that I wish I had never gotten myself into that I need to start today, but if I lose it's the end of my moral code and sanity, "you caught me off guard, so I got a little rude."

He smiled and took another step closer, there were now only three feet between us. I'm not that strict about my personal bubble, but I'd only been talking to him for barely a minute, so I had to fight the instinct to step back. I didn't want to be rude again.

"It's alright, it's not hard to become disconnected when you're reading. If you're going to start working at the Starbucks here, I can put in a good word for you."

"Oh. That's really nice of you- you barely even know me!"

"We go to the same school, don't we? I know enough, but-" he winked, "I could know more."

My eyebrow twitched as I cursed myself for feeling my cheeks and ears get warm, but I couldn't help getting flustered. As I tried to ignore the latter part of his statement, I suddenly remembered that I had seen him standing near that guy last week.

"That's right, I-I've seen you before. Your name is...Miroku, right?"

He casually bowed. "At your service. Literally, because I work here. And yours is Kagome, I've heard...quite a pretty name to match a pretty face, if you ask me."

I kept still, but I felt my eye twitch this time, and before I could say anything else I heard Miroku gasp when he glanced at his watch.

"Oh, crap," he muttered, shaking his head, "that fool. Sorry again, but I'll have to cut this conversation short. You see, I'm looking for someone," he subconsciously leaned to the side to look behind me, "and he tends to go off on his own, and our shift starts in less than five minutes. Our manager is rather strict with the employees about time discipline, and as a friend I'd hate for him to get into trouble he doesn't have to get into. Also frankly, he needs me."

I tried to process his fast-talked mini essay of information, and I spoke without thinking, since I seem to be doing that a lot lately. "I don't think I've seen who you're looking for, but I have about ten minutes more of spare time than you do-I can find him for you, if you like."

Then he smiled- like, really smiled. His smile wasn't infectious, but it was both welcoming and warm, and his eyes had become focused, invested in the source of his momentary happiness with genuine interest.

"Would you do that for me? He's probably sitting between a bookshelf and a wall or some sort of corner like the strange guy he is. He probably just fell asleep again while reading. Just tell him I sent you get him because our shift starts soon and he won't be so grumpy when you wake him up. I think."

"You think." He shrugged. I just sighed; it's not like I hadn't signed up for this. "Any leads, then?"

He pointed an outstretched arm to his right, which would be my left. "He has to be on this floor on this side of the store. I already checked the other side- and by the way, he's the only person here wearing bright red pants, no question about it. Bring him back to the registers when you find him."

I nodded and began to speedwalk in the guided direction as I heard him call "thanks again!" from behind me. I browsed the aisles of bookshelves up and down throughout the whole left side of the store, but he was nowhere to be found. I began to panic as it had already been a minute and a half according to the stopwatch on my phone, so I came to a stop in the middle of the store, a person pushing past me as I tried to clear my head.

Think, Kagome. What did Miroku say again? He was probably napping, so my target is stationary, and he's on this side. I used to nap in Sango's old bookstore. "He's probably sitting between a bookshelf and a wall or some sort of corner..."

That's it.

There was a part of the wall that jutted out in Ink in the Rye, and it boxed in the farthest corner of the store, a three-foot space sandwiched between two bookcases. It was always my favorite place to nap- perhaps there was something similar here?

I was basically going on the moment of a feeling, but it's not like I haven't been doing that often recently, either. I perused the inside of the same aisle and sure enough, I spotted a place where the wall awkwardly jutted out, and inwardly rejoiced. He has to be here; you're such a genius, Kagome! My self-appraisal pumped the energy into my legs as I practically sprinted to the other side of the corner, breathing in a smile as I peered over the end of the bookcase that sandwiched a five-foot space between another bookcase.

Sure enough, there was someone there. But as I walked closer, that someone I saw knocked that energy out my legs and I felt my smile fall as I found myself standing less than ten feet in front of him.

It was him.

It's not that I was scared, because I wasn't; I just hadn't been expecting...to meet him now, so soon. I didn't connect the dots. I should have assumed that the friend Miroku was looking for was the same guy I had seen him standing near last week. What were you thinking, Kagome?

He is definitely the guy I was looking for- he is wearing bright red pants, a black button-down shirt with cuffed mid-sleeves, and is definitely napping with a book on his chest.

His hair is white- snow white- and it's long enough to spread out on the floor and frame his face. It's also a little messy, especially on the top of his head, though the cowlicks fail to conceal a pair of relaxed dog ears poking out. He has olive skin, which is darker than one would think for someone with such fair hair. The open book on the left side of his chest is red, and though the back cover and some of the spine is obscured by his right hand, the front isn't, and I could make out the title from this distance.

The Seventh Arrow, A Clockwork Fairytale. Huh. I've never read that one before. In fact, I don't think I've even heard of it yet, but it sounds interesting.

Taking a deep breath- I hadn't realized I'd been holding it- I walked close enough to crouch in front of him and shook his shoulder as firmly as I could while still trying to be gentle.

"Hey," I mumbled, then continued with a stronger voice, "hey. You're asleep, aren't you? Wake up."

He must be a light sleeper, because he began to stir almost immediately, thick eyebrows furrowing as he sat up. I pulled the book off his chest before it slid off completely, keeping my thumb on the page and watching as he leaned forward, rubbed his eyes and yawned, his flattened ears perking up and twitching towards the new source of sound.

Yellow eyes blinked open and focused on me, both the said newest source of sound and the subject of his confusion. Or possibly great displeasure, there was no way of knowing until he said something. Unfortunately, the brief scowl that appeared on his face made me fear for the latter as he sniffed the air a second time.

"Who the hell are you?" His voice was thick with sleep and serrated with mild irritation.

I blinked twice at his curt greeting, if you could call that one.

"I-I'm, uh…" Why am I stuttering? ? I shouldn't be nervous, I only just met him!

Forcing myself to pull it together in response to his impatient, drowsy stare, I managed to form an explanation in two quick sentences.

"You have a shift that starts in less than two minutes. Miroku asked me to find you, so I woke you up." That came out choppier than I'd like to admit.

Grunting, he stood up slowly and began to rotate his shoulders, which kriked from their awkward position during his nap.

"Miroku, eh? Of course, the lazy idiot uses any excuse to talk to a girl and throws me in the mix," he muttered rather displeased, then realized something was missing, his eyes stopping at my right hand that was holding his book, thumb-in-page.

Give me my book and run along, girl." Just like his voice, his eyes were a pair of scissors ripping through my now paper-thin patience.

I'm not sure exactly what about him set me off, but in just a few short moments I'd already had enough of his rudeness and shot up on my feet. "Girl? I have a name, you know! What kind of thank you is that? I didn't have to run around a store I can't stand before job training to help some stranger that I've never met!"

He pouted angrily. "Well, I never asked you to!"

"You don't think I know that? That's what they invented the phrase "thank you" for- or is that missing in the dictionary for uncivilized brutes?!" Whoa, I was coming on much stronger than usual when I chewed someone out. I need to calm down.

"You don't get a reward for every "good samaritan" deed you pull in life- but I guess that's not something a petulant broad would understand!" He spat back with equal venom. Screw calming down.

I gasped at the quickly-served insult. "I hope you're late to your shift and get fired!"

"I hope you screw up your job training and get fired before you even start!"

"Whatever, you dumb idiot!" I countered, turning my back on him and walking away.

"Right back at you, you stupid idiot!" He called after me.

Realizing I still held his book in my hand, I stopped in my tracks and threw it at him, a flurry of pages meeting his face. I was hoping the book would make a satisfying thud on the ugly chain-carpet floor, but he just caught it in his hands, most likely due to his demonic dexterity. Asshole.

"I hope you forgot what page you were on!" I retorted, stomping away again.

"Sorry, but I clearly remember I was two pages into chapter three!"

"Hmph. Good for you!" I sneered from a distance, causing a few heads to turn in my direction, but I didn't care. I had a job training to go to because of this stupid bet.

But the joke's on Eri, Yuka, and Ayumi anyway, because this bet is for nothing- I know I'm going to hate him.

In fact, I already do.

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No? No one else thinks Snow White is a good metaphor for Inuyasha?
Or Sango the sewing feminist? NO?
Okay, I'll just show myself out the door, then.